"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," said the Prince, "I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play, but he is too cold to write any more. Take him one of my eyes made of rare sapphires. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his...